Pieces

​the key turns in the lock--my heart: pounds:is dinner hot, the laundry done,the house clean enough?i smile as he comes through the door,searching for signs of the best.Red, angry eyes, that ugly sneer;clenched fists--don’t go near.i don’t need to knowit’s time to prepare for a fight;but even so, he lets those poisoned darts fly:<<bitch, whore, trash.>>their venom burns through my veins,i only pray it kills me/swift/for once upon a time, his arms held me with love--now they only slap, punch, shore.tonight, his body language gives him away…i know it’s time to run--i’ll die if i stay.

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction."